The invitation arrived beneath enough satin gold ribbon to make Aurelian suspicious of it.
It rested in the center of the silver tray Vincente carried into the breakfast room, its thick pearl-white paper stamped with the imperial crest. A golden tree upon the wax seal, its roots curled into branches that represented the oldest houses of Evelina.
Aurelian lowered his teacup.
“Is that from the palace?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Vincente placed the tray before him with the solemnity of a man delivering either a royal blessing or an execution order.
Aurelian looked from the invitation to his attendant.
“Do you know what it says?”
“I considered opening correspondence bearing the imperial seal without your permission,” Vincente replied. “Then I remembered that I value my hands.”
“That seems sensible.”
Aurelian continued staring at it.
Across the table, Carina folded the corner of the letter she had been reading. “Aurelian.”
“I am going to open it.”
“You have been saying that with your expression for nearly a minute.”
“I was preparing myself.”
Carina sighed and reached for her tea.
Aurelian broke the wax seal carefully. The paper unfolded with a crisp sound that seemed far louder than it should have in the quiet breakfast room.
The wording was elegant, formal, and unnecessarily elaborate.
Baron Aurelian Bellafonte and his family were invited to attend a reception at the imperial palace, held in honor of the noble families participating in the current social season. Aurelian was expected to present himself formally before Their Majesties, King Richard and Queen Celeste Evelina, and before Her Royal Highness, Princess Serena Evelina.
Aurelian read the final sentence twice.
Then a third time.
Carina waited.
“Well?”
“I am being presented to the royal family.”
His mother’s expression brightened with immediate pride.
Aurelian’s stomach sank with equal speed.
“That is wonderful.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“I have seen them before,” Aurelian said. “At the princess’s debut. From a respectful distance. That seemed sufficient.”
Carina held out her hand for the invitation. “A formal presentation is an honor.”
“It is also considerably closer than a respectful distance.”
“Aurelian.”
He surrendered the letter.
Carina read it while Vincente poured more tea into Aurelian’s cup without being asked.
Aurelian accepted it gratefully.
“The reception is in three days,” Carina said.
“That is not enough time.”
“To do what?”
“To become a person who knows how to speak to a king.”
Carina’s mouth twitched, though she managed not to smile. “Lady Lockwood will prepare you.”
Aurelian looked at the invitation again.
For some reason, that did not comfort him.
✽✽✽
Lady Lockwood arrived that afternoon.
She read the palace invitation once, placed it upon the table, and regarded Aurelian with the grave composure of a commander assessing an inexperienced soldier before battle.
“This is the most important invitation you have received this season.”
Aurelian sat straighter on the drawing-room sofa.
“I assumed the royal seal indicated that.”
“It indicates that you are expected to behave accordingly.”
“I have behaved at every gathering.”
Lady Lockwood looked at him.
Aurelian reconsidered.
“I have attempted to behave at every gathering.”
“Better.”
She stood before him in her usual silver-gray gown, her gloved hands folded neatly at her waist. Several books on court etiquette had been arranged on the table beside her, along with a handwritten list of royal titles and the correct order in which they were to be used.
Aurelian eyed the stack with unease.
Vincente remained nearby with a tray of tea, his expression politely neutral.
Carina had declared that Lady Lockwood was more than capable of overseeing the lesson and had withdrawn to attend to the final preparations for the family’s eventual journey south. Aurelian suspected she had simply wished to avoid witnessing his humiliation.
Lady Lockwood tapped the first page.
“You will be announced by your full title. You will approach when instructed, stop at the appropriate distance, and bow first to His Majesty.”
Aurelian nodded.
“You will then address Queen Celeste and Princess Serena. You will not speak until one of them speaks to you.”
“What if none of them speaks?”
“Then you will consider yourself fortunate and withdraw when dismissed.”
“That seems manageable.”
“They will speak.”
Aurelian’s brief relief disappeared.
Lady Lockwood continued. “You may be asked about Bellafonte Territory, the southern merchant routes, or your experiences in the capital. You will answer clearly and respectfully.”
“I can do that.”
“You will not mention the rumors involving Duchess Vaelmont.”
“I would greatly prefer not to.”
“You will not discuss Princess Serena’s prospects for marriage.”
Aurelian blinked. “Why would I do that?”
“Because the season was arranged, in part, to introduce eligible noblemen to the princess.”
Aurelian’s back stiffened.
Of course he had known it. It was slyly mentioned at the season's opening ball by his lovely mother. Princess Serena had made her formal debut, and noble families from across the empire had gathered in the capital so that suitable alliances might be considered.
Knowing it had been one thing.
Being formally presented to the princess herself was another.
Lady Lockwood watched comprehension settle over his face.
“You had forgotten.”
“I had not forgotten,” Aurelian said. “I had simply managed not to think about it recently.”
“An admirable skill, though not a useful one.”
“She is a child of barely fifteen.”
“She is a royal princess approaching the age at which political marriages are discussed.”
“That does not make her less of a child.”
Lady Lockwood’s expression softened by a fraction. “No. It does not.”
Aurelian looked down at the list of titles.
“I do not want her to believe I have come to court her. But what if something I say is misinterpreted?"
“Then we shall pray the palace walls are more sensible than the rest of Evelina.”
Aurelian frowned.
Lady Lockwood lifted one eyebrow. “You are to be respectful, attentive, and brief. No one expects you to propose marriage during a formal presentation.”
“I should hope not.”
“Do not look so relieved. I have not finished.”
Aurelian’s shoulders lowered again.
“You are not to invite the princess to Bellafonte.”
His mouth fell open. “I would not.”
“You invited Duchess Vaelmont before you knew her name.”
“I knew her name.”
“You knew half of it.”
“I was trying to be welcoming.”
“And the capital has spent weeks discussing your welcome.”
Aurelian looked toward Vincente for support.
His attendant placed a cup of tea before Lady Lockwood.
“I believe Her Ladyship’s concerns are reasonable, my lord.”
“Traitor.”
“I prefer the term cautious observer.”
Lady Lockwood accepted the cup. “You will also refrain from offering the princess flowers, poetry, books, private tours of southern estates, riding lessons, rare tea blends, or personal invitations of any kind.”
“I do not carry invitations in my pocket.”
“You seem capable of producing them without preparation.”
Aurelian pressed his lips together.
Lady Lockwood sat across from him and opened the first etiquette book.
“We will begin with your bow.”
He stood.
For the next hour, Aurelian bowed to an empty chair while Lady Lockwood corrected the angle of his shoulders, the placement of his feet, and the position of his hands.
By the end of the lesson, he had developed a profound personal resentment toward the monarchy’s furniture.
✽✽✽
The imperial palace appeared even larger than the first time he gazed upon it.
At Princess Serena’s debut ball, Aurelian had been overwhelmed by the chandeliers, the music, the crowds, and the terrible knowledge that he would eventually be required to dance. The palace had seemed dazzling then; a place of rose-quartz walls, marble staircases, and golden light.
In the afternoon, under a pale blue sky, it seemed more imposing.
The carriage passed beneath towering iron gates and followed a broad avenue lined with clipped hedges and stone statues. Imperial banners hung from the palace walls. Guards stood at regular intervals in white-and-gold uniforms, their posture so perfect that Aurelian wondered whether they were permitted to breathe.
Lady Lockwood sat across from him in the carriage.
His mother and father had arrived separately and would join the larger reception after Aurelian’s presentation. Lady Lockwood had insisted on accompanying him herself.
She had inspected his clothing before they departed and approved of the formal white coat Vincente had selected. Deep-red embroidery traced the cuffs and edges of the coat, while the waistcoat beneath it was a rich shade of crimson. A white cravat rested neatly at his throat, secured by a small silver pin shaped like a sunflower.
Aurelian had chosen not to wear his sunflower earrings.
Lady Lockwood had looked at his bare ears and said nothing, but her silence had suggested approval.
“You are pulling at your glove,” she said.
Aurelian stopped.
“I was adjusting it.”
“You have adjusted it six times.”
“It remains poorly adjusted.”
“It fits perfectly.”
He lowered his hands to his lap.
The carriage slowed.
“Remember the order,” Lady Lockwood said.
“The king, the queen, and then the princess.”
“The titles?”
“Your Majesty, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness.”
“The bow?”
“Respectful, but not as though I have misplaced something on the floor.”
Lady Lockwood nodded. “And you will not—”
“Invite Princess Serena to Bellafonte.”
“Good.”
“I was listening.”
“You listen exceptionally well. It is your spontaneous decisions that concern me.”
The carriage stopped before the palace steps.
A footman opened the door.
Lady Lockwood descended first. Aurelian followed, lifting his gaze toward the immense white-stone façade.
He could do this.
He had survived the welcome tea, Princess Serena’s debut ball, Lady Primrose’s social test, and the Argent Aile.
Surely speaking to the three most powerful members of the imperial family could not be considerably worse.
Then the palace doors opened.
Aurelian reconsidered.
The reception occupied one of the palace’s smaller ceremonial halls.
Aurelian did not know what the imperial family considered small, but the room could easily have contained the entire Bellafonte townhouse twice over. Afternoon light filtered through the tall windows, which reflected from polished marble floors and gold-framed mirrors. Pale flowers filled enormous vases along the walls, while servants moved quietly between groups of nobles carrying wine and delicate pastries.
At the far end of the hall, the royal family received those being formally presented.
King Richard stood at the center.
He was taller than Aurelian remembered, though perhaps it was merely the effect of seeing him without a ballroom full of people between them. His black hair was neatly arranged, his features sharp and severe. He wore pearl white beneath a formal coat embroidered in gold, and his dark eyes moved across the room with unsettling precision.
Queen Celeste stood at his right.
Where the king appeared carved from dark stone, the queen seemed illuminated by the light around her. Her golden hair was arranged beneath a delicate crown, and moon-opals gleamed at her throat. Her expression was gentle, but there was an alert intelligence in her clear blue eyes that reminded Aurelian immediately of Seraphina.
Princess Serena stood beside her mother.
The princess wore a pale gold gown suited to an afternoon reception rather than a ball. Her black hair fell in carefully arranged waves, and her blue eyes moved curiously over each nobleman who approached.
She was composed.
She was royal.
She was also unmistakably young.
Aurelian’s discomfort returned.
A palace official called the next name.
Aurelian realized it was his.
Lady Lockwood gave him a slight push between the shoulder blades.
He moved forward.
“Baron Aurelian Bellafonte,” the official announced, his voice carrying across the hall. “Son of Baron Snyder Bellafonte and Lady Carina Bellafonte of Bellafonte Territory.”
Aurelian stopped at the distance Lady Lockwood had made him practice.
He bowed to the king.
Not too deeply.
Not too quickly.
He rose without striking his forehead against anything, which he considered a success.
“Your Majesty.”
King Richard studied him.
Aurelian had the uncomfortable sensation that the king could see every mistake he had made since arriving in Evelina, including the ones he had not yet made.
“Baron Bellafonte,” the king said.
His voice was deep and controlled.
Aurelian turned to Queen Celeste and bowed again.
“Your Majesty.”
“Welcome,” the queen replied.
Her smile was gracious, though her gaze lingered on him with open interest.
Aurelian bowed to the princess.
“Your Royal Highness.”
Princess Serena inclined her head.
“Lord Bellafonte.”
He straightened.
Silence followed.
Aurelian remembered Lady Lockwood’s instruction not to speak until spoken to.
He waited.
King Richard continued looking at him.
Aurelian began to wonder whether the royal family had forgotten they were supposed to dismiss him.
“I understand Bellafonte’s trade has expanded considerably this season,” the king said at last.
Aurelian’s fear loosened slightly.
Trade.
He understood trade.
“There has been increased interest, Your Majesty,” he replied. “Particularly in our tea, sunflower products, and southern fruit preserves. My father has also received several inquiries regarding new merchant partnerships.”
“Interest born from your territory’s reputation,” King Richard said, “or from your own?”
Aurelian hesitated.
He could feel half the room listening without appearing to listen.
“I would prefer to say Bellafonte’s reputation, Your Majesty. Our farmers and merchants have worked for years to produce goods worthy of wider trade.”
The king’s expression did not change.
“And yet the interest began after your arrival.”
“That may be true,” Aurelian admitted. “Although I cannot claim that the attention has always arisen for sensible reasons.”
Queen Celeste’s lips curved.
King Richard’s gaze sharpened.
Aurelian wondered whether he had already failed.
Then the king asked, “Would Bellafonte be capable of supporting the expanded demand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, provided the expansion is properly managed.”
“Explain.”
Aurelian forgot to be nervous.
“Several of our villages could increase production, but that would require more than planting additional fields. The roads between the inland farms and the southern merchant routes would need reinforcement before the rainy season. Storage facilities would also have to be expanded so that growers were not forced to sell immediately at poor prices.”
The king listened without interruption.
Aurelian continued carefully.
“My brother oversees shipping near the coast, and his connections could help us move more goods through the port. But increasing demand too quickly could damage the soil or place unfair pressure on the farmers. My father believes expansion should occur slowly enough that the territory benefits from it rather than merely supplying the capital at its own expense.”
Something in King Richard’s expression shifted.
Not warmth, exactly.
Perhaps recognition.
“A practical answer,” he said.
Aurelian inclined his head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Your father has taught you well.”
“He has tried very hard.”
Queen Celeste released a soft laugh.
The king glanced at her.
“He speaks honestly,” she said.
“So I have heard.”
Aurelian was not certain whether that was praise.
Queen Celeste regarded him. “And have you enjoyed your first season in Evelina, Lord Bellafonte?”
“It has been educational, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s smile deepened. “A diplomatic answer.”
“I have recently been instructed to give more of them.”
This time, even Princess Serena smiled.
Aurelian heard a small sound behind him that might have been Lady Lockwood suppressing a sigh.
Queen Celeste’s gaze flickered briefly toward Lady Lockwood before returning to him.
“I imagine the capital has been rather different from Bellafonte.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. In Bellafonte, people generally say what they mean.”
The king’s eyebrow lifted.
Aurelian hurried to add, “Although I am learning that Evelina has its own customs.”
“Are you?” Queen Celeste asked.
“I believe Lady Lockwood remains hopeful.”
The queen glanced again toward the older countess.
Lady Lockwood bowed her head with the dignity of a woman who refused to acknowledge the burden she carried.
“I should like to speak with Lord Bellafonte,” Princess Serena said.
The request was delivered with royal composure, but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes.
Aurelian looked toward the king and queen.
King Richard gave a small nod.
Queen Celeste stepped slightly aside, allowing Serena to move forward.
The princess gestured toward a nearby window alcove. It was still visible to the entire room, but far enough from the receiving line to permit a quieter conversation.
Aurelian followed her.
He had been prepared for questions about Bellafonte, court life, or perhaps the weather.
He had not prepared himself to be assessed as a potential husband by a fifteen-year-old princess.
Serena stopped near the window.
“You are very nervous,” she observed.
Aurelian blinked. “I beg your pardon, Your Royal Highness?”
“You keep folding your hands as though you are afraid they may do something without your permission.”
Aurelian looked down.
His hands were indeed clasped tightly before him.
He released them.
“I apologize.”
“I did not say it offended me.”
Serena studied him openly.
Aurelian resisted the urge to look back toward Lady Lockwood.
Many of the young men at court would likely have used this opportunity to compliment the princess’s gown, her beauty, or the grandeur of the palace. Aurelian could think of nothing to say that did not feel dishonest or inappropriate.
Princess Serena was beautiful, certainly, but she was beautiful in the manner of a young girl carefully dressed for a portrait. Praising her as one might praise an unmarried woman at a ball felt deeply uncomfortable.
Instead, he noticed the book resting on the window ledge beside her.
“You were reading.”
Serena followed his gaze.
“I was before the presentations began.”
“Did they make you stop?”
“I was informed that reading while noblemen bowed to me might appear discourteous.”
“I suppose it would depend upon the book.”
Her mouth twitched. “You think there are books worth being discourteous for?”
“There are books worth missing meals for. I imagine discourtesy is a lesser sacrifice.”
The princess laughed.
It was a quick, bright sound, and several nobles glanced toward them.
“What are you reading?” Aurelian asked.
“A history of the western kingdoms.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“No.”
Aurelian considered the answer.
“Then perhaps it is not worth the discourtesy.”
Serena looked pleased.
“You are not going to tell me that histories are essential for a future queen?”
“I assumed you had several tutors responsible for telling you what is essential.”
“They are very committed to it.”
“I would not wish to take their employment from them.”
She laughed again.
Some of the tension left Aurelian’s shoulders.
Talking to Serena became easier once he stopped thinking of her as a princess searching for a husband and began thinking of her as a young girl trapped at a reception where strangers repeatedly bowed to her.
“Do you dislike court histories?” he asked.
“I dislike histories written by men who believe listing every battle is the same as explaining what happened.”
“That is reasonable.”
“You agree?”
“I prefer knowing why people made their decisions. A battle is only interesting if one understands what brought everyone to the field.”
Serena tilted her head. “Most men say battles are interesting because people die heroically.”
“Most of the people who die in battles are probably frightened, uncomfortable, and wishing to go home.”
The princess’s expression became more thoughtful.
“That sounds like something my aunt would say.”
Aurelian smiled before he could stop himself. “Duchess Vaelmont?”
“My Aunt Seraphina.”
“Yes. I suppose she would know better than I.”
Serena watched his face carefully.
Aurelian realized too late that he had smiled at the mention of Seraphina.
The princess’s blue eyes brightened with mischief.
“You like her.”
Aurelian nearly looked over his shoulder to make certain no one else had heard.
“I hold Her Grace in very high regard.”
“That was not what I said.”
Aurelian’s face warmed.
Serena leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“She likes you too.”
“I believe we have become friends.”
“Friends.”
“Yes.”
“My aunt does not leave her duties to visit bookstores with many of her friends.”
Aurelian stared at her.
“How did you know about that?”
“The palace has windows.”
“That does not explain anything.”
“It explains enough.”
Aurelian glanced toward Queen Celeste.
The queen was listening to the next presentation, although the faint curve of her mouth suggested she was aware of more than she appeared to be.
Aurelian returned his attention to Serena.
“Your aunt happened to have an afternoon free.”
“She never happens to have an afternoon free.”
“She said she did.”
“She gave herself one.”
Aurelian did not know how to respond.
Serena smiled sweetly.
“Should I expect you to become my uncle, Lord Bellafonte?”
Aurelian inhaled incorrectly.
The breath caught in his throat, and he turned his head to cough into his fist.
Several nearby courtiers looked toward him.
Serena’s expression remained perfectly innocent.
“Your Royal Highness,” he managed, “I assure you that Duchess Vaelmont has made no such intentions known to me.”
“Not yet. My aunt rarely makes her intentions known until she has already decided something.”
Aurelian opened his mouth.
No answer came.
Across the room, Queen Celeste lifted one hand to her lips.
Whether she was concealing a cough or a smile, Aurelian could not tell.
King Richard remained entirely unreadable.
“I think I like you, Lord Bellafonte,” Serena said.
Aurelian was uncertain how they had reached that conclusion.
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
“You do not look at me the way the others do.”
His unease returned, quieter this time.
“How do they look at you?”
“As though I am the royal vault and the throne is hidden inside.”
Aurelian looked at her.
For one brief moment, the mischievous princess disappeared, leaving only a young girl who understood precisely why so many unfamiliar men wished to impress her.
“You are not a vault,” he said.
Serena’s eyebrows rose.
Aurelian immediately realized how foolish the statement sounded.
“I mean, you are a person, Your Royal Highness.”
“I am relieved you noticed.”
He winced. “That was poorly phrased.”
“It was.” She smiled. “But I understood.”
A palace official approached and bowed.
“Your Royal Highness, the next presentation is ready.”
Serena nodded.
She looked at Aurelian one last time.
“You may go, Lord Bellafonte. I promise not to ask you to marry me.”
“That is extremely generous of you.”
“And should you become my uncle, I expect books from Bellafonte.”
Aurelian’s face warmed again.
Before he could answer, she turned and returned to her parents.
Queen Celeste met his gaze as he bowed once more.
There was unmistakable amusement in her eyes.
Aurelian retreated toward Lady Lockwood.
The moment he reached her side, she murmured, “What did the princess say to you?”
“I would prefer not to discuss it within the palace.”
“That concerning?”
“Deeply.”
Lady Lockwood studied him but allowed the matter to rest.
For the moment.
✽✽✽
They remained at the reception for another hour.
Aurelian spoke with several nobles, made sure to greet his parents, accepted congratulations on his presentation, and attempted not to wonder how many people had heard him choke during his conversation with the princess.
Lady Lockwood kept him moving through the room with practiced efficiency.
When the formal reception began to thin, a palace attendant offered to guide them through the eastern gallery toward the entrance where their carriage would be brought around.
The gallery was quieter than the ceremonial hall.
Tall arched windows overlooked one of the palace courtyards, where fountains glittered in the afternoon light. Portraits of past monarchs lined the walls between suits of ceremonial armor. Their painted eyes seemed to follow Aurelian as he walked.
He was examining a portrait of a queen whose expression suggested she had disliked everyone she ever met when the sound of approaching boots echoed from the adjoining corridor.
Several palace guards appeared first.
They moved with disciplined precision, wearing the blue-and-silver colors of the royal knights.
The woman walking behind them required no announcement.
Seraphina wore no crown, jewels, or flowing court dress.
Her dark-blue military coat fitted closely across her shoulders and fastened with polished silver clasps. A silver cord marking her rank draped neatly from one shoulder, while black gloves covered her hands. Her moonlight hair had been braided away from her face, and her sword rested at her right hip, positioned for her left-handed draw.
She looked colder dressed as a commander.
Sharper.
More distant.
Then she saw Aurelian.
The distance in her expression disappeared.
“Lord Aurel.”
He smiled before he remembered where they were.
“Lady Sera.”
One of the younger knights behind Seraphina looked abruptly interested in the opposite wall.
Lady Lockwood went very still beside him.
Seraphina dismissed the guards with a slight motion of her hand.
“Continue to the western courtyard. I will join you shortly.”
The knights bowed and moved on.
When they were out of hearing, Seraphina approached.
“I did not know you would be here today.”
“I was presented to the royal family.”
“So I heard.”
Aurelian blinked. “Already?”
“This is the palace. Nothing remains private after it enters the front doors.”
“That explains your niece.”
Seraphina’s brow lifted. “What has Serena done?”
“She asked whether I intended to become her uncle.”
For one extraordinary moment, Seraphina Vaelmont lost control of her expression.
Her eyes widened.
Her lips parted.
Then the reaction vanished so quickly that Aurelian might have imagined it.
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“I apologize.”
“She seemed pleased with herself.” Aurelian stated. “She also informed me that you rarely make your intentions known until you have already decided something.”
Seraphina’s gaze rested on him.
Aurelian felt the sudden urge to adjust his glove again.
“Serena possesses an unfortunate imagination,” Seraphina said at last.
“That was also my conclusion.”
“Was it?”
Aurelian looked at her.
There was something in her tone he could not identify.
Before he could consider it further, Seraphina glanced toward Lady Lockwood.
“My lady.”
“Your Grace,” Lady Lockwood replied with a respectful inclination of her head.
Aurelian noticed the countess watching them both.
Not rudely.
Lady Lockwood was never rude.
She was simply observing with the same concentration she used when sorting invitations into categories of importance, usefulness, and danger.
Aurelian suspected he had just been placed into the third stack.
“How was the presentation?” Seraphina asked him.
“Less terrible than I expected.”
“My brother-in-law did not frighten you?”
“He asked about Bellafonte’s trade.”
“Then he was interested.”
“Your sister was kind.”
“She usually is.”
“And your niece attempted to arrange our future relationship.”
Seraphina’s mouth curved.
The sight made Aurelian relax further.
Without the noise of the reception surrounding them, it felt strangely natural to stand with her in the palace gallery. He no longer worried about where to place his hands or whether every sentence followed the rules Lady Lockwood had taught him.
He simply spoke.
“I hope you have been resting,” he said. “You mentioned that training the royal knights had demanded much of your time.”
Lady Lockwood’s gaze sharpened.
Seraphina appeared equally surprised.
“I have rested when possible.”
“That sounds like a carefully worded refusal.”
“I slept six hours last night.”
Aurelian frowned. “That is not enough.”
“It is considerably more than four.”
“That does not improve the situation.”
A faint line appeared between Seraphina’s brows, though her eyes held quiet amusement.
“You have just been presented to the rulers of the empire, and your concern is whether I have slept?”
“The presentation is finished. Your exhaustion is not.”
Lady Lockwood said nothing.
Seraphina’s expression softened.
“I will make an effort to rest tonight.”
“You said that the last time.”
Seraphina looked at him for a long moment.
“Very well, Lord Aurel. I promise to rest.”
Aurelian smiled. “Thank you.”
Lady Lockwood inhaled slowly beside him.
He glanced at her.
The countess’s face remained composed, but she looked as though she had encountered a puzzle whose solution offended her.
Seraphina noticed as well.
“Have we disturbed you, Lady Lockwood?”
“Not at all, Your Grace.”
Aurelian did not believe her.
Seraphina turned back to him. “How much longer will you remain in the capital?”
The question appeared casual.
Aurelian answered with equal ease.
“Not much longer, I think. My parents intend to return to Bellafonte after the upcoming ball.”
Seraphina became still.
The change was small enough that Aurelian might not have noticed had he not been looking directly at her.
Her left hand moved behind her back, where it closed around her right wrist. The silver clasp at her glove pressed into the dark leather.
“After the ball,” she repeated.
“Yes. My father believes we have remained away from the territory long enough. There are trade agreements he would prefer to finalize from home, and my mother has begun worrying that the garden staff are trimming her roses incorrectly.”
“I see.”
The warmth in Seraphina’s voice had cooled into something more formal.
Aurelian wondered whether his mother’s roses had somehow offended her.
“When is the ball?” she asked.
“Next week.”
“And you will leave immediately afterward?”
“Not the very next morning, I hope. The journey is long enough without beginning it exhausted. But within a few days.”
Seraphina looked toward the courtyard windows.
Sunlight caught the silver threads woven into her uniform.
“That is soon.”
There was something quiet in the words.
Aurelian’s smile faded.
“I suppose it is.”
He had been thinking of Bellafonte increasingly often—the warmth, the red roads, the sunflower fields, the balcony outside his father’s study. He missed his horse. He missed the familiar quiet of the villages and the way summer rain smelled upon warm earth.
Until that moment, he had not considered what leaving Evelina meant beyond returning home.
He would no longer see Echo whenever she appeared at the townhouse without warning.
He would not attend Varian’s gatherings or listen to Evelyne discuss the books she had abandoned halfway through.
He would not visit Lady Lockwood or Marquise Beaumont.
And Seraphina would remain here.
In the palace.
Commanding the knights, attending the king, and living beneath skies that would grow colder as the season changed.
“Bellafonte is not impossibly far away,” he said.
Seraphina turned back to him.
“The journey takes several weeks.”
“Yes, but roads travel in both directions.”
A small silence passed between them.
Aurelian continued, suddenly uncertain.
“My invitation still stands.”
“Your invitation?”
“To visit Bellafonte.”
Understanding entered Seraphina’s eyes.
“You offered it before you knew who I was.”
“I knew you were someone I enjoyed speaking with.”
“That was enough?”
“It remains enough.”
Seraphina’s fingers loosened around her wrist.
Aurelian smiled again.
“You would be welcome there, Lady Sera. I meant it when I said so.”
Her expression changed.
Not greatly.
Seraphina rarely revealed anything greatly.
But the guarded disappointment softened, replaced by something warmer and far more dangerous to Aurelian’s composure.
“I have not forgotten,” she said.
The corridor seemed unusually quiet.
Aurelian became aware of Lady Lockwood standing beside him once more.
He cleared his throat.
Seraphina’s gaze dropped briefly to his white-and-red formal attire before returning to his face.
“You will attend the ball, then?”
“Yes. Lady Lockwood has informed me that declining is not an option.”
“It is not,” Lady Lockwood confirmed.
“Do you intend to dance?” Seraphina asked.
Aurelian considered the question. “I expect someone will require it of me.”
“I see.”
The corner of her mouth lifted.
“Then reserve one for me, Lord Aurel.”
Aurelian stared at her.
Seraphina waited.
“You wish to dance with me?”
“I believe that is what I asked.”
His surprise gave way to a wide smile.
“Of course.”
Something in Seraphina’s face eased.
“Do not give it to anyone else.”
“I will not.”
Aurelian didn't have the chance to dance during Princess Serena’s debut ball. He was more focused on Seraphina’s hand around his and the entire court watching them as though they had done something scandalous merely by standing together.
He should have been nervous.
Instead, he found himself looking forward to it.
Seraphina inclined her head.
“Then I shall see you at the ball.”
“Yes.”
She took one step away before pausing.
“And Lord Aurel?”
“Yes?”
“My sister was pleased to meet you.”
Aurelian blinked. “She told you?”
“She did not need to.”
“Is that a family trait?”
“What?”
“Understanding people without requiring them to speak plainly.”
Seraphina considered him.
“No. Serena has never possessed it.”
Aurelian laughed.
Seraphina’s smile lingered as she turned away.
She walked down the gallery, the sound of her boots echoing against the marble. At the end of the corridor, the waiting knights fell into formation around her, and she disappeared beyond the archway.
Aurelian watched until she was gone.
He released a quiet breath.
“That was kind of her.”
Lady Lockwood did not answer.
Aurelian turned.
The older countess stood with both hands folded before her, staring at him with an expression of profound disbelief.
“What?”
“She asked you to reserve a dance.”
“Yes.”
“She asked you.”
“I was present.”
“A duchess does not casually request a dance from an unmarried gentleman.”
Aurelian looked toward the corridor where Seraphina had disappeared.
“Perhaps she thought I would be disappointed if I left the capital without dancing with a friend.”
Lady Lockwood closed her eyes.
Only for a moment.
When she opened them again, she seemed to have gathered the patience required to explain something exceptionally simple to an exceptionally difficult child.
“Duchess Vaelmont is not known for arranging dances out of pity.”
“I did not say pity. I said kindness.”
“She asked precisely when you intended to leave the capital.”
“She was making conversation.”
“Her entire demeanor changed when you said you were returning south.”
Aurelian frowned. “She was probably surprised.”
Lady Lockwood stared at him.
Aurelian shifted beneath the weight of her silence.
“What?”
“Baron Bellafonte,” she said, “I am beginning to suspect that Her Grace could propose marriage in the middle of the ballroom, and you would thank her for being polite.”
Aurelian’s face warmed.
“That is absurd.”
Lady Lockwood turned and continued down the gallery.
Aurelian followed her.
“She was merely asking for a dance.”
“Of course.”
“She was.”
“I am certain that is what you will tell yourself until the orchestra begins.”
Aurelian glanced back toward the empty corridor.
Seraphina had asked him to reserve a dance. One dance. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about that.
Probably.
Aurelian adjusted his glove.
Then he hurried after Lady Lockwood before she could leave him behind within the palace walls.
Chapter discussion